Tiny Little Person
by RenegadeDescendance
Summary: An attempt at writing Bro's experience when he found Dave at the scene of the meteor crash. Rated T. Oneshot.


Bro Strider shuffled his way through the doors of his apartment, arms full, and shut the door behind himself. Once he had, he tiredly leaned against it and looked down at the strange little baby in his arms.

After finding a living baby at the scene of a meteor crash with no parents, he couldn't just _leave_ it there. He may have been a cool young adult uninterested in having kids, but he wasn't heartless.

The child didn't seem to approve of the little shades placed on his face, and promptly used both hands to pull them off and drop them on the floor. Bro quirked an eyebrow at him, and the baby looked up at him innocently.

It was only then that he noticed the baby's candy apple red irises. His own eyes widened behind his shades. Where did this baby even _come_ from?

He didn't dwell on the child's eyes, he'd seen weirder shit in his time. The baby didn't seem to mind being held and in the home of a total stranger very much.

Bro wondered what to do with him. Would he be okay to crawl around on the floor while he watched TV? He couldn't see why not.

He lowered the baby to the floor and flopped down on the couch. He flicked the TV on, and watched as the tiny human began crawling slowly around and touching things within his reach. Bro was about to look away when the kid grabbed a stray marble and stuck it in his mouth.

"Hey, spit that out," He called to the baby, but of course he didn't understand. Bro sighed and went over to the baby, stuck his fingers in his toothless mouth, and pulled the marble back out.

So, maybe letting him explore wasn't the best idea. He lifted him back up again and carried him back to the couch.

He occupied himself with pulling Bro's shirt while he watched TV for almost a whole hour, when finally he stopped and began crying.

Bro looked down at him, unsure of what to do. He nervously bounced him a little, to no avail. He patted his back, and still nothing. He didn't smell like he needed a change...so what was wrong? Maybe he was cold, he _was _wearing only a diaper. The older of the two grabbed his hoodie from nearby and wrapped it around him. He continued to cry.

Bro was starting to panic a little. What if he wanted his parents? Fat tears rolled down his little cheeks, and he gave his current caretaker a heartbreaking _Why won't you help me? _expression.

Uh-oh.

What if he was hungry? He didn't a baby bottle on hand, nor did he keep any milk in the apartment. Well shit. That was probably why he was crying, and Bro didn't have anything to feed him with. He'd have to go buy something from the drugstore. He cut the TV off and lifted the crying child with him off the couch, and began looking for something the baby could wear out in the cool December weather.

He noticed the smuppets scattered about the floor, and saw a pair of small red sweat pants that would probably fit, and a white T-shirt with a heart on the front that was about his size, too. He quickly managed to dress him, and hauled ass out of the apartment, crying baby in tow.

Making it to the drugstore was easy, it was only a two minute walk from the apartment. He made his way in, and actually entered the baby aisle he'd walked by so often for the first time. He grabbed a bottle with his free hand and was about to go checkout, but realized he'd need formula too. He grabbed a small tin of it. He once again almost headed out, but spotted diapers and wipes on sale, and knew he'd need that too if he was planning on feeding him. He grabbed a shopping basket from the end of the aisle, and dropped in the bottle, formula, diaper box, wipes, and added a little red set of baby pajamas that were just too cool _not _to buy, and a pacifier.

_That should do it, _Bro decided, and bought his supplies. He quickly got out of the store, and the other customers seemed relieved that the wailing baby was leaving.

Once he got back, he prepared him a bottle with one hand, closely following the instructions and hoping he'd done it right.

He'd never fed a baby before, or been taught...but looking back, hadn't he seen commercials with women doing it? Yeah. Okay, easy.

Bro settled himself into an armchair by the couch, and laid the baby slightly more horizontal. He unsurely put the bottle tip into his mouth, and couldn't help but smirk when he closed his eyes and sucked it down hungrily. He finished quickly.

Okay, now what?

Hadn't he heard something once before about burping babies after they ate? He figured that sounded right. The baby was placed upright, against Bro's shoulder, and he patted his back until he softly burped. Bro chuckled and placed him back on his lap. He grabbed a nearby smuppet and offered it to the baby as something to play with, but he seemed uninterested and sleepy. Bro quickly cut off the TV, and took it upon himself to find him somewhere to nap. He carried the now drowsy baby to his room, and began clearing the pillows off of his bed. Something made him think he'd smother himself with pillows. His bed was already shoved against the wall, so he couldn't roll off that way, but...

He shoved his dresser against the other side and his nightstand against the end of the bed. He stepped back to look at his makeshift crib.

Wow, pretty ridiculous looking. Oh well, at least he wouldn't fall. Bro put the little blond-headed baby on the mattress and laid a grey fleece blanket over him. He immediately blinked a few times, obviously trying to fight off sleep, but soon succumbed and his eyes fluttered closed, and was out within minutes.

The young adult couldn't help but stare in amazement at him. He was just so _little_. Bro wondered if he had a name. Should he give him one? No, that would be stupid, since he would probably be in his care only for a day or two until he figured out where his mother was. But...aw, hell. He could give him one just for now, why not?

He looked around the floor of his messy bedroom and spotted a name off of one of the many ironic magazines on the floor, David something-or-another.

Hm. David. That could work, but Bro had never been much on names any more than one syllable. He _could _just call him Dave.

Dave...Strider?

Bro had to admit that just sounded like the name a cool guy would have. So, for the next few days the baby would be known as Dave.

Bro smirked. Why was he so drawn this tiny little person?


End file.
